Move Me (5 page)

Evidently, this fantasy was compelling.
Arousal welled and ran out of her pussy.

“Um,” she said, resisting the urge to squeeze
her thighs together. “What time would you like to come by?”

Her voice was husky. John’s gaze dropped to
her breasts, then rose to her face again. She concluded her nipples
were visible. His expression was pure smolder.

“Early is good,” he said.

His answer held such a purr that it struck
her speechless. God, she wanted this man. Like, bad enough to throw
him to the floor and tear off his clothes. Her pussy clenched, her
better judgment at war with her impulse to check if he was hard.
She didn’t need to look. She could imagine fine, thank you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she
croaked.

The smile that had been flirting around his
mouth deepened. He handed her his empty mug. “Enjoy your shower,
Belle. There should be plenty of pressure.”

He
was the pressure she was concerned
about. He trotted down the stairs while she stood there watching,
her tongue creeping helplessly to her lips. He didn’t hesitate or
glance back at her. Whatever he was feeling, she hadn’t put him in
a tizzy like he had her.

“Wait,” she called as his big hand surrounded
the doorknob.

He turned his upper body to face her. Even
from the landing, she saw his eyes were blazing. He probably
thought she was about to invite him to sleep with her.

“What should I pay you?” she clarified
hastily. “We haven’t discussed your rates.”

She’d opened herself to ribbing with that
question, but rather than take advantage, he cocked his head and
considered her. “We can settle up when the job is done. I promise
my fee won’t be more than you’re willing to pay.”

That was an odd answer. Belle drew breath to
suggest he be more specific, but the grin his gorgeous face broke
into effectively silenced her.
Wow
, her hind brain sighed.
This man was a stunner.

“Don’t worry, Belle,” he said. “There’s no
extra charge for kisses.”

~

Dubhghall was pleased with his exit line, so
much so that he’d reached the end of her overgrown front path
before remembering he had nowhere else to go. If he’d been in
Faerie or Resurrection, he could have magically whipped up a
shelter. Here, he was as homeless as an indigent.

“Fuck,” he muttered in irritation. He didn’t
even have a coat.

He gazed longingly back at the bright warm
house, then shrugged to himself. Charming Belle to invite him in
violated rules he had to honor to win his prize. Roughing it for a
night wouldn’t kill him. He wet his lips, recalling the press of
her little nipples against the gray sweatshirt. Hopefully, her
attraction to him would keep
roughing it
to a minimum.

Because it was the closest cover he knew of,
he returned to her uncle’s abandoned alchemic shack. Though not
heated, a careful exploration revealed it to be piped with running
water. It was also wired for light, but he didn’t turn that on. A
small moth-eaten sofa would save him from sleeping on the floor.
Though the ghost wasn’t there to ask, he supposed Isaiah had used
the sofa for naps. More evidence that he’d disliked leaving his
esoteric labors was a supply of soup in a cabinet. Thanks to the
peel-top cans, Dubhghall made a grateful if not gourmet meal of
one.

Disgusting though the repast was, Dubhghall
now owed Isaiah. He’d have to be sure to send him on to a higher
plane before he left this realm.

Thoughts of his family rose as he curled up
on the musty sofa, shivering a bit in the autumn chill. Dubhghall
was the youngest of his parents’ children, who totaled three boys
and two girls. He’d grown up coddled by everyone, doing his best to
avoid being insufferable - once he was old enough to know better.
He loved his siblings, and their respect meant a lot to him. Finlay
and Gavin were brave and fun, and no one could have defended the
pipsqueak he’d been better than the twins, Effie and Mina. His
parents, though busy ruling Talfryn, were fair and loving. Thanks
to his mother and sisters, he had a high opinion of female kind.
His mother would be aware he’d disappeared from their dimension,
and would inform his father he needn’t give in to Mor’s extortion.
Dubhghall - and his power - were safe beyond Mor’s reach for
now.

I’m glad
, he told himself, wrapping
his arms a little tighter around his ribs. A bit of loneliness and
discomfort didn’t matter. Humans believed deprivation built
character. Maybe he was building his.

The shack’s sole window suddenly went dark.
Belle must have shut off the lights in her uncle’s house.

Good night
, he thought to her.
Dream sweetly if you dream of me
.

THANKS
to John Feeney, Belle enjoyed
the best shower in the whole history of showers. The spray was hot
and pounding, and the soap lathered like a dream. Her girly lotions
and potions smelled better than usual, as if their scents had been
created from real flowers yesterday. The hint of spice among the
sweetness raised the possibility that John’s to-die-for aftershave
was lingering in the bathroom, but Belle elbowed that idea
aside.

She was luxuriating here. No annoying males
allowed.

Once she’d pulled on an oversized T-shirt and
panties, she dove under the stack of quilts to stay warm. The fresh
country air had good points. Though she normally tossed and turned,
she fell asleep almost before her cheek hit the feather pillow.

The dream she fell into was one she’d had
many times. She was in the rural K through 12 she and Danny had
attended in Kingaken. Kids of different ages milled in the halls,
and Belle was pushing her way through them. Her little brother was
around the corner, or maybe up that stairwell. Sometimes in the
dream her feet refused to go up the treads, because her shoes had
mysteriously bonded with the floor. Sometimes she whispered a
prayer she couldn’t remember when she woke up. One thing never
changed: the dream always ended before she found Danny.

Tonight the school felt more vivid than
usual. She heard the hollow clang of lockers, smelled chalk dust
and boys’ sneakers. A bell rang, shrilling against her eardrums.
The hall emptied of people except for her. She couldn’t remember if
this had happened before. She wished she could think of where
she
ought to go. Didn’t she belong in any of those
classrooms? If she searched them, would Danny be in one?

Someone touched her shoulder from behind.

She spun, thinking she’d finally achieved her
goal, but the hand wasn’t Danny’s. Her new handyman faced her.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked. He was
smiling, a pleasant friendly expression. Belle thought she ought to
answer.

“My little brother. Do you know where he
is?”

John sent his gaze around. “Not here, I don’t
think.”

Belle’s throat tightened. She ached from
missing Danny. He was more than a brother, he was her friend, the
only member of her family she could count on loving her. Her uncle
thought girls were nitwits, and her parents - when they weren’t
wrapped up in their own concerns - weren’t a hell of a lot better.
Danny was the son. Belle was just the difficult daughter who liked
her brother better than them. They were in agreement on that at
least. That Danny also liked her better mystified her parents. They
didn’t understand it just felt nicer to love someone you could
trust. Danny had known that, which was why him being gone was so
hard.

But she’d be damned if she’d cry in front of
a boy.

John touched her cheek gently. He was very
tall. She had to look up to meet his dark gleaming eyes. That
hardly ever happened. Belle was the tallest girl in her class.

“Why don’t I take you somewhere you’ll
enjoy?” he suggested.

“I have to keep looking.”

“Sometimes you only find what you’re looking
for when you stop.”

“That’s baloney.”

“It’s not baloney, it’s metaphysics.”

Belle wrinkled her nose. “You sound like my
crazy uncle.”

“That might be true, but I know whereof I
speak.” John took her hands and squeezed. His palms were warm.
Belle felt as if they were shooting her full of courage, like maybe
he was someone she could trust too. Shouldn’t she give a boy this
cute a chance?

“Could we go somewhere sunny?” she asked.

John smiled so brilliantly his teeth
sparkled.

Before she could blink, they stood in a
stunning desert under a blazing sun. Dunes stretched out from them
in the vastness, a silent ocean spun of sand. The heat of the day
was perfect, the rich blue hue of the sky. A large round tent had
been set up behind her companion. Though its walls matched the sand
in color, a painted band of cloth ringed its roof. The edge of the
band was scalloped. When she squinted at its decoration, she saw
pictures of very bendy people having sex.

“You’re a sheik,” she exclaimed, the
conclusion inevitable to her.

John bowed to her like one. “As you wish, my
quivering captive.”

Well, that was strange. She’d fantasized
about bondage a time or two. How had he known this was where her
mind had gone?

“Come,” he said, drawing her after him by the
wrist.

At a wave of his hand, the door to the tent
peeled back. Evidently, he was a sheik and a wizard too. The light
inside was golden, and the air smelled of him. A thick suede floor
lay between her feet and the sun-warmed sand. Heaps of pillows
invited them to lie down.

“We’re private here?” she asked.

“Unless you want to be watched.”

She shook her head hastily.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” His skin
seemed to twinkle in the amber light. “This is your dream. You can
have anything you like.”

It might be her dream, but even here she
wasn’t prepared to completely let down her guard. Once more she
shook her head. John’s lips curved with amusement, two deep dimples
appearing in his cheeks. “Suppose I guess what you want
instead?”

That idea she liked. A hard hot pulse
throbbed in her pussy as she nodded.

The sparkle on his skin flared higher, tiny
rainbow glints jumping off of him. “Clothes away,” he
commanded.

Belle wasn’t sure what she’d been wearing,
only that she suddenly was naked. He was too, which made her inhale
sharply.

“Gosh,” she said. “You’re really
beautiful.”

He was Michelangelo’s
David
in warm
flesh, a work of art so enticingly sculpted and buffed that his
erection wasn’t the first thing her gaze went to. His legs, his
arms, the smoothly rippling muscles of his abs had her breath
catching in her throat. His veins were more prominent in certain
places: his neck, the lower plane of his abdomen, the bulge of his
carved biceps. She experienced an odd desire to be a vampire, so
she could literally eat him up.

Then she gave his hard-on a good
look-see.

She had saved the best for last. Overcome,
she pressed both sets of fingers against her mouth. John’s shaft
stood straight and strong, capped with a flaring head stretched
taut by desire. To her, the deep pink flush on its skin was
prettier than roses. Head filled with thoughts of what she wanted
to do with it, Belle licked her lips and looked up at him.

His dark eyes were hooded, strange lights
glinting beneath his lashes. She saw he enjoyed her admiring him.
To judge by how his gaze traveled up and down her, he enjoyed
looking at her too.

“Straps,” he said, the word coming out a
growl. “Leather. Bind her gently for me.”

A flurry of snakelike shapes flew through the
tent toward her: leather straps John had ordered to serve him. They
slapped her skin and wrapped around it at wrists and ankles and
knees, firmly spread-eagling her. The straps didn’t hurt. They
simply constrained and pulled. The way they looked on her body sent
her heart up into her throat.

She seldom thought of herself as sexy, but
somehow the leather turned her into a femme fatale. Her nipples
felt sharp as diamonds, the blood within them coloring them ruby.
It didn’t matter that her breasts were small; the crisscrossed
bindings framed them perfectly. She lifted her head to discover a
sturdy frame had materialized around her. Steel eyebolts were
screwed into the wooden uprights and crossbar. The ends of the
leather tied themselves through the holes even as she watched.

Those were good knots. Belle wouldn’t be able
to get loose by tugging. An excitement she couldn’t control
thickened in her upper chest.

“I can’t get free,” she said
breathlessly.

“You don’t want to,” John purred as he
prowled to her. He held one final strap wound around his hands, the
straight length between creating a snapping sound when he pulled
sharply.

The noise cast a spell on her. Belle’s pussy
ached worse than she’d known it could. Because her ankles and knees
were tied, she couldn’t squeeze her thighs together. As her creamed
welled up, nothing stopped it from running out of her.

John dropped to his knees in front of her, as
if his legs had simply buckled. He was gazing directly at her
sex.

“Do you like me like this?” she asked
curiously.

“You’re prettier than a rose,” he
declared.

When he put his mouth on her, it felt like
all her nerves sprang to life at once.

“Oh my God,” she groaned, squirming
helplessly in her restraints. He was licking and sucking at the
same time, focused almost entirely on her clitoris. Sensation
rolled in waves up her pussy. Her thighs were trembling, her
muscles strained. She tugged at her bonds, but only her hips would
move. The leather held her like extra hands, the straps warm and
conforming.

“Mmm,” he hummed into her.

He didn’t touch her except with his mouth.
His wrists remained wrapped up in the last strap, as if he’d bound
himself too. The walls of her sex felt like they were thick, her
pleasure gathering in a ball. John rocked his chin to her harder,
and she groaned at how close she was.